Bullet Shards Reach Deeper
by Forget-Me-Not Writing
Summary: The bullet paralyzing Charles Xavier not only physically pained him, but continues to affect Erik even fifth teen years later. Magneto pays a visit to Professor X on the anniversary of Cuba to get some answers as to why he hasn't felt peace since that day Charles was shot. First time they have an encounter since Cuba.


"Professor X?" the voice was coming from his office's door at the Xavier's School for the Gifted Youngsters. "I'm sorry to disturb you, sir, but you have someone here who needs a moment of privacy with you."

"Potential student?" he asked without removing his gaze from his large window overlooking the large estate.

"N-no, sir, but I think you two need to talk just the same," she replied. Was that nervousness in her voice? He heaved a sigh; he hated to be bothered on this day.

"If you feel it's absolutely necessary that I see this person, let them in, dear," he replied in a defeated tone. A quiet reply in confirmation was all he heard of her before heavy steps thudded into his office. "I should have you know," Charles began. "I'm not overly fond of unscheduled meetings; I'm a busy man, and I may have had other, priority-placing things to do today then chat with y-"

"Charles, don't fool either of us by saying you actually accomplish anything on today," the intruder interrupted.

"So you do realize the significance of today, then?"

"The day you got paralyzed."

"The day I lost my partner and best friend," Charles corrected him as he turned his wheelchair completely to face Magneto head-on.

"Did that bullet misplace your priorities? You're honestly saying that's the anniversary you're commemorating today? Me?"

"What was to be accomplished on that day was going to be greater than either one of us. My status of mobility shouldn't determine the success that should've been," Charles chided as he wheeled around his large desk. "I always said that this-" he gestured to the grandeur of the room to indicate the school "-and the X-men would be more than we could produced on our own. When you sided against me, you delayed that dream. Delayed, mind you."

"I can see that my absence hasn't hindered your persistence in moving forward, then?" Erik cringed at his word usage. Terms involving moving shouldn't be spoken near a handicapped man, he presumed.

"You can't have a foundation where a lone man can take credit for it, just as you can't have a foundation where a lone man can destroy it; my name may be on the school, but I have had plenty of help, trust me. But I'm highly doubting you came here, to my school, on this day to make chitchat about what was lost to cause this anniversary," Charles stated. "So, then," he said as he pressed his fingers together –refusing to read his mind for he wanted to hear the physical words of Magneto's reasoning. "Tell me, why are you here?"

"You always told me I could control my power best in the place between rage and serenity," Erik quietly said.

"Yes, I do recall saying that," Charles answered in a low tone, assuming Magneto's odd response onto a new subject was the answer to the professor's question.

"I haven't felt it."

"Pardon? Felt what?" Charles humored him by asking; he himself wasn't entirely too interested in having a conversation with Magneto at the moment, or ever.

"I haven't felt that place of control; I haven't been at peace ever since…" Erik's explanation stumbled, odd for such a composed man. "Ever since Cuba, and the beach attack, and MacTaggert's bullet… ever since…"

"And why is that?" Charles mused.

"You know full well why," Erik answered in an accusing tone.

"I think the first step to achieving the healing you require is to admit the situation and your part in it," advised Charles.

His response was meekly voiced: "I couldn't save you."

"No, no," Charles corrected with a rotation of his wheelchair to inch forward a pace, but held the strained distance between them still. "_I_ couldn't save _you_."

"What… what do you mean?" baffled Magneto.

"You know full well what I mean," retorted Charles with borrowed words of Erik.

"You think I'm evil? Using my mutation for bad?" Erik guessed.

"I know you're using your mutation as leverage over those who do not possess our uniqueness," Charles accused. "I know if someone wrongs you, you create a fear; an intimidation too large for any ego, let alone one who could, and would, act upon their threats with said leverage."

"This isn't how I planned for this conversation to go," Erik diverted Charles accusation.

"By your response not matching my statement, I can only presume I pegged you, and you do not like the answers that will come; you do not like that you're finally having to answer for your rash actions fifth teen years ago on that beach in Cuba!"

"It wasn't my fault!" Erik defended. "MacTaggert had the gun, she fired the bullets, the very one that struck you!"

"No, Erik," Charles interrupted; the action stunned Erik for both the tone used and it being the first time Charles has addressed him. "You always took such pride in the amount of control you have because of your mutation. You need to start accepting that your mutation has both good and bad results, instead of you just taking credit for your creations when all goes according to plan. Cuba did not go according to plan," Charles berated.

"Yes, it did! Shaw is dead-"

"And that was because of your actions, not the team's. When you're apart of something, you all share the glory and you all share the downfalls -unless one pulls an Erik Lensherr, and rogues on a mission by putting their personal vengeance above the team.," Charles's voice raised some octaves as he continued to unleash upon Magneto.

"You strayed from plan; your actions caused the mission to go in a different direction. You manipulated the bullet, and I know for certain you weren't aiming at me personally, but your thirst for revenge and power directly opposed what we stood for, and because of that, because of _that_, you shifted the bullet and hit not only me, but the principles of bettering Mutants and living in society rather than ruling it.

"You may not have physically fired the gun that day," Charles sighed to grasp the tears threatening to plunge from his eyes. "But you might as well have. For your leaving on that day hurt worse than any weapon could have inflicted upon me."

"I wish I had known how much suffering that day would have caused you," Erik managed to say.

"I don't have to be a telepath to be able to know that you still would have gone through it all; you still wouldn't change a single action you took that day," Charles stated as he closed his eyes.

"Does it still hurt?"

"Nearly every time I see metal, it brings it all back," Charles explained his feelings for his friend's absence.

"I meant the bullet wound," Erik awkwardly corrected the professor.

"I can't feel my legs, Erik. Being paralyzed is painful, but not in the way you would think. I see children running, teens planning on joining the X-Men for missions. I see people give me piteous glances as they wonder what could have happened to me that made me lose mobility of my legs. But the greatest hurt, the worst pain of being paralyzed, is knowing it didn't bring you back."

"But that's the thing, Charles, it did. I do believe, because of Cuba and my part in the accident, I haven't been able to find that serenity and anger place; I haven't been at peace with myself. What you said was right, -as usual- and I thought I came here to finally get over my fear of our first encounter.

"Fear?"

"I'm deathly frightened of the highly-possible concept of you never forgiving me for what I've done to you," Erik confessed. "I've always know I had a part in the lack of your mobility, but I'm starting to realize that I had a part in so much more. I hurt your ideas, your back, and your heart when Raven joined me. I thought I had come here today to finally stop fueling my magnetic powers with fear and use the place between serenity and rage as you always said, but I think only your forgiveness could get me there, and I'm not ready to ask that of you. Originally, a tiny plot in me coming was to regain my power at its prime, but I don't think I could handle that again with the sacrifices that have to be made.

"Sacrifices come hand-in-hand with substantial power, Erik."

"Would you ever be willing to sacrifice your hate of me, not so I can gain more power, but peace of mind?"

"I don't hate you," Charles whispered. Erik snapped his head to face the professor's eyes in search of the truth. Charles swallowed a lump of emotion in his throat before he continued. "The sacrifice isn't forgiving you, Erik; the thing to give up here is your battle within yourself. You've never admitted it, and you continue to refuse it as I saw in my acquisitions a while earlier, but I believe, deep down, you've always seen yourself as the culprit in Cuba. You always felt a connection to my pain and paralyzation, and by dealing with that, you left. But you knew that wasn't what you truly wanted."

"How is it that you're always right about everything?"

"Not everything. Because I believe that right now, I'll tell you I forgive you, and you'll walk out of here as if nothing has changed. You'll proceed onwards with your redeemed mutation skills, and create havoc upon society. Now, Erik, prove me wrong. Tell me you won't."

"You know I can't do what you're truly asking of me, Charles," confessed Erik.

"I believe, Erik, that you can accomplish more than humanly possible, because you are far more intelligent, talented, and studious than any other person I know. And I know an awful lot of people," Charles persuaded. "I know you can overcome your hate of non-mutants because of what they did to you and your mother, because you possess the overwhelming enormity of rage –meaning you also possess overwhelming amounts of compassion."

"But my fight with them isn't just about my mother and becoming a lab rat anymore, Charles," Erik said. "I fear that it's a great deal more."

"If it's this absurd conversation of ruling them again, I don't want to hear it, E-"

"It's much more than that, Charles!" Erik interrupted. "They do have the power! They control us!"

"Now, I have yet to meet any non-mutant soul who is brave enough, let alone able to, control you, Erik," Charles chastised.

"Not in the way you think, Charles," Erik mused. "They think we are the mutants, they think we need to be contained for fear of us abusing our power. They assume they know best for they were here 'first'.

"You said you believed I could accomplish more than humanly possible, yes?"

"Well, yes," Charles answered.

"It may have been MacTaggert's bullet, and it may have been under my control that hit you, but where did you go after the island?"

"W-where?" Charles repeated in confusion as to what Erik's point was precisely. "A hospital, of course."

"_Their_ hospital?"

"Ye-e-e-s," the dragged out response from Charles sounded hesitant.

"I…" Erik paused for composure. "I hurt you. I was the one who paralyzed you, Charles. I couldn't save that pain from you, but they, those non-mutant doctors, are the ones who when presented a problem caused by mutants, they could not solve. They did their best, I'm sure, but it wasn't good enough to save you, save _all_ of you, Charles."

"I hardly think the blame should be put on the-"

"But, Charles, don't you see?" Erik began as he knelt beside the professor's chair. "As long as there are issues between mutants and non-mutants, as long as there are those who believe they can control those who are different, there shall always be war."

"And with war come casualties."

"And with war comes the breaking of the line of mutants and non," Erik continued in an excited tone. Charles was beginning to see Erik's true meaning of this visit. "They couldn't save you, Charles. Their non-mutant-ness limited their abilities to fix your back. They're the weak links in this society. This world needs to adapt to survive, like Darwin."

"And look where that got him!" Charles exclaimed. "Darwin died trying to save Angel. Don't you see what happens when people gain too much power? They try to withhold it to just themselves, but eventually, no matter how adaptable they are, they'll implode –leaving the rest of us with nothing but memories and the mourning of said person."

"Charles," Erik said as he straightened his stance to his full height. "I can see that your viewpoints of ridding the non-mutants have not strayed from your stance fifth teen years ago. But I will make you see that I am right. We need to rid of those who resort to bullets; rid of those who can't save others when struck by bullets."

"Erik, you're missing my point."

"No, you're missing mine, and I'll fix this, you'll see, Charles. You were right in saying that I'll create havoc upon society, but it's for you, Charles; I'll avenge those mutants who have to suffer because of rash actions. We may be on opposing sides now, but I'll prove to you I'm right in the necessary extinction of non-mutants."

"The only way for you to fix this is for you to not be on the opposing side of me," Charles pleaded the man. "I'm on the good side, Erik, we accomplish good here."

"I don't see any good in a situation that involves alliances with non-mutants," Erik scoffed. "I fear we'll be on opposite teams until I can prove to you that I'm the right one for once and that they're to blame."

"As you feared my withholding of forgiveness, I fear you staying on that side of the war," Charles whispered more of to himself than to Magneto. "Good-bye, Erik. Give Raven my regards, please."

"Good-bye, Charles Xavier," Erik said as his heavy steps left the room.

The activity outside the office was nothing of note: a few students oddly glancing at him, murmurs from the game room, and the secretary stationed at her desk who looked up at the click of the office's door closing.

"Sir, we'll have someone escort you off the estate as previously discussed," the woman who showed him into the office earlier said to Erik once he exited Professor X's presence.

"Ah, yes, of course," Erik reasoned.

"That's an interesting fashion statement," she commented.

"What? My helmet?" assumed Erik.

"No, well, I guess that too," she fumbled for the right words to say to this intimidating man, "but your necklace. What is it? A rock?"

"A bullet," Erik answered as he gently caressed the harsh metal strung upon a chain and fashioned around his neck.

"Did it hit you?" she asked; curiosity increased.

Erik stiffened as he replied: "Yes."

"Did it hurt?"

"Yes," again he confirmed.

"Is wearing the bullet that hit you as a necklace a form of therapy? Like letting go?" reasoned she.

"No," Erik dead panned. "More like a reminder of the pain it has inflicted."

"I don't understand," she was insistent on filling the awkward silence between them with conversation. "Why remind yourself of something that hurts, especially if you have already overcome it?"

"To keep it there to surge me on; like a battery, it charges my reasoning."

"To keep what there?" she asked, still lost as they entered the vehicle which was to take him off the school's property.

"The pain."

"Looks a bit weathered," she finally commented, at loss to what to say to this man after they sat down across from each other.

"It left the barrel fifth teen years ago."

"Fifth years ago? Why, that's when the professor was sho-"

"As was I," Erik interrupted, not bothering to her that his bullet wound was slightly different than the professor's. He turned slightly to focus on the moving outside as the vehicle whirled down the spiffy drive of the school.

"Really? He never mentioned th- oh, wait. Yes, he did," her musing statement caused him to stiffen even more. "Professor X grieves this day."

"Because of him being paralyzed by this bullet?" Erik asked, eyeing the assistant suspiciously out of the corner of his eye.

"Because his best friend left," she answered with a sympathetic smile. A breath of silence swept in as the vehicle slowed to a stop at the property line. He shifted to leave. "Was the man that died your friend as well?"

Erik paused mid-way through the door of the vehicle to transport off the estate. He simply muttered, "I wish I knew that man."


End file.
